


jingle (my) bells

by byunbaekcute



Series: season's greetings [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: College!AU, M/M, and little pieces of their hearts, mingyu finds himself helplessly in love with wonwoo, snow falls and it's christmas, they share hot cocoas and warm hugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:49:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byunbaekcute/pseuds/byunbaekcute
Summary: Mingyu's not quite sure what to make of his (blooming) friendship with Wonwoo. Christmas is near, and with that comes colder temperatures and an increasing desire to stay hidden under thick duvets. Through snowball fights, hot chocolate and subtle glances, Mingyu finds his heart racing a little faster day by day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something about Wonwoo that's a little confusing, but Mingyu finds that he doesn't mind.

Christmas is the time for giving. So, why exactly isn't Mingyu being given the proper time to spend with Wonwoo? He wishes that they could go for just _one_ hour together without annoying calls from head student councillor Hansol or second-in-charge Jisoo intercepting their time. (It’s mainly Hansol, really, Mingyu has answered one too many of Wonwoo's calls only to hear a deranged screech of “Man, why does Wonwoo _always_ let you answer his phone? Go suck an egg and let me speak to my great, honorable secretary!”)

 

The student council needs Wonwoo’s help to plan the Christmas party. Granted, it’s only late November, but Hansol is Hansol, and he likes to be on top of things. (“The early bird catches the bird, yanno? But like, the worm has to be even _earlier_ for the bird to catch it. Let’s all learn from the worms.”) It’s Wonwoo’s _job_ , and Mingyu _knows_ this— the student councillor updates him on the team’s progress everyday during their lunch appointments to the nearby cafe, the one run by that jolly old man who favours the student councillor and always adds extra marshmallows to his hot chocolate.

 

(Mingyu isn’t jealous of the shop owner’s blatant favoritism, because he dumps his own portion of mini marshmallows into Wonwoo’s cup each time anyway. It’s definitely _not_ because he wants to see Wonwoo smile.) It doesn’t stop him from throwing a big, silent tantrum whenever the smaller male gets called back to school during their lunch dates though— can Mingyu even call them dates?

 

Maybe Mingyu is looking too much into the daily affairs he shares with Wonwoo. They’ve been meeting up regularly ever since the incident that occurred at the Halloween party— the one where Mingyu involuntarily punched Wonwoo in the face during his haunted house escapade. They made up over supper at a ramen stand afterwards, and somehow began to see each other every day for lunch. Mingyu vaguely remembers Wonwoo saying that Mingyu’s the brightest part of his day somewhere between week three and four of their new routine.

 

Now what on earth is that supposed to mean?

 

Wonwoo should really be clearer with his words, because they're giving Mingyu a headache trying to decipher the riddles. He thinks there’s a possibility Wonwoo _might_ be into him, but Seungcheol never fails to trample on and squish that glimmer of hope with his asshole-ish and pessimistic assessments of their almost-budding relationship.

 

_(“He’s just using you to block out the sun, because you make like, a freakishly tall umbrella. I hide under your shadow sometimes. You can probably sustain the growth of bacteria beneath all that shade.”_

 

_“Ha, explains why you flourish under it. Wonwoo is not that much shorter than me, Seungcheol.”_

 

_“Fuck you. A centimeter is still a centimeter!”)_

 

Mingyu is aware that Seungcheol is ninety-nine percent bullshit and one percent truth. He's that _one friend_ who links you to jumpscares at ungodly hours of the night, that _one friend_ who uses questionable vocabulary to trick you into searching words up on Google. One time, he managed to deceive Mingyu into Googling images of tentacle bukkake in the middle of language class. All Seungcheol really had to do was poke fun at his delicate ego, and accuse him of being an presumptuous, ignorant fool. In Mingyu’s feeble defense, he was under the impression it was a superfood. Till this very day, Mingyu still fears octopuses.

 

Even when equipped with the life-saving knowledge to _not_ trust a single word that spills from Seungcheol's lips, Mingyu can't stop it from eating at his insides, leaving him feeling empty and hollow.  

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

 

Days turn colder and snow starts to fall, and Mingyu hates the growing chill. He hates walking down pavements and getting wet slush in his Timberland boots just because Mother Nature is having fucking mood swings and can’t decide whether she wants the weather to freeze water or melt ice. Frostbite fucking sucks, and Mingyu very much still wants to keep all feeling in his fingers and toes.

 

He learns quickly that Wonwoo, on the other hand, loves the cold. Said student wanders off on strolls with Mingyu around the school campus to prod at the frozen koi ponds with a stick, and sometimes manages to threaten Mingyu with fistfuls of snow. More often than not, they end up in a snowball fight.

 

They play outside until they can’t feel the tips of their noses, and their breaths mingle in a single cloud as they huddle together on the benches. Wonwoo likes winter a little _too_ much, but Mingyu doesn’t let it get to him. It’s a gentle balance— Wonwoo is thrilled to be in the snow, and Mingyu is contented just watching him. Freezing weather be damned, Wonwoo looks ethereal with his cheeks bitten pink by the cold, snowflakes clinging to the tips of his lashes.

 

Spending time with Wonwoo is a lot like playing russian roulette— Mingyu initiates, and if he’s lucky enough to catch Wonwoo on a good day, Wonwoo will reciprocate. And when he doesn’t? Then that’s when Mingyu is left feeling sad and vulnerable, the bullet of rejection free to take its aim and send a clean shot right through his weak-willed heart.

 

On such occasions, Mingyu can tell that Wonwoo’s keeping him at a safe distance. These days start off normal enough, with Mingyu catching small glimpses of Wonwoo making his rounds down the hallways with other councillors in the mornings. The boy even looks happy enough, exchanging polite _‘hello’_ s and _‘good morning’_ s with students who look their way, and sharing the occasional joke with Hansol as he quietly laughs into the sleeve of his sweater.

 

When he's with Mingyu at lunch though, Wonwoo closes himself off— his smiles are tight-lipped and his eyes lack the lustre and radiance Mingyu’s accustomed to. Instead, Wonwoo hunches over his hot chocolate, the festive red of the beverage cup peeking from beneath his fingers, silent and contemplating. He pokes at his food, fiddles with the pages of his book, and does _anything_ other than talk to Mingyu.

 

(“You alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo mumbles around a mouthful of salad, before stabbing cruelly at a cherry tomato with the prongs of his fork. The offending fruit rolls away— almost too spitefully— and Wonwoo looks too discouraged for it to be normal, eyes downcast and lips set in a frown.

 

Mingyu isn't sure whether it’s his presence or the tomato’s lack thereof that's making Wonwoo so sad. His brain is on autopilot as he plucks the fork out of the other student’s hands. He doesn't realise what he's doing until he's bringing the fruit up to Wonwoo's lips, and it's the stare Wonwoo directs at him that snaps him out of his trance.

 

There's the flickering of emotions in the light of Wonwoo's eyes, conflict and hesitation switching from one to the next. It confuses Mingyu, and he opens his mouth to ask, but then Wonwoo’s biting on the fruit and waving him off and he loses the chance.

 

Mingyu watches the lingering frown on Wonwoo’s face even as the other student insists that he’s fine, and wills it to go away.)

 

But more often than not, Mingyu is given the chance to hold Wonwoo’s hand and tug him closer on their impromptu walks, under the poor pretense of preserving body heat. It’s not exactly a lie, Mingyu’s hands _do_ feel like they have went skinny dipping in liquid nitrogen, but it’s really just an excuse to interlock Wonwoo’s slender fingers with his own. They continue to hold hands until they arrive at the cafe a few blocks down.

 

As they warm themselves up with cups of hot chocolate and peppermint mochas, Mingyu thinks he much prefers the heat of Wonwoo’s hand.

 

That’s the reason why Mingyu detests the frantic calls that become increasingly frequent as they proceed into December. He doesn’t think he can forgive Hansol for butting in and dragging Wonwoo back to councillor duties on days they agreed to go skating at that makeshift rink down at the park.

 

Mingyu has never felt so defeated in his life as he watches Wonwoo disappear around the corner of the dormitories with a weak wave and an apologetic smile— the last time he’s been this disappointed was probably in middle school, when Soonyoung drank the last of his precious banana milk. The student councillor meetings are usually held in the president and vice president’s shared room, and if Wonwoo’s stories are to be taken as truth, a whole lot of shit goes down in there.

 

It's a wonder what kind of party planning can be done in the living quarters of two high-ranking councillors, highly strung on caffeine and energy drinks as they struggle to meet deadlines. Mingyu doesn't have an inkling of an idea how anyone puts up with them— Hansol insists they throw the “biggest damn Christmas party”, and Jisoo thinks he has to listen to whatever the president says. He suspects that together, the two of them tag-team Wonwoo into doing their bidding with packets of prawn crackers and cans of Mountain Dew.

 

Wonwoo tells him newly-appointed councillor Lee Chan is a whole lot of help, and whilst juniors are not supposed to be involved in the activities of their seniors, they’ve made an exception, for this one's a competent and absolute cutie. (Mingyu refuses to acknowledge the pang of jealousy that hits right at his weak, vulnerable heart again, or the bitter taste on his tongue.) That discussion ended with Mingyu throwing seventy-five percent of a hissy fit, insisting that even _he’d_ be cute if he were put next to Hansol and Jisoo. Wonwoo easily agrees, hands reaching out to pat Mingyu on the cheeks. If Wonwoo notices the blush that dust across them afterwards, he certainly doesn't let it show.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

Wonwoo eventually gets sucked into an endless whirlpool of duties, leaving Mingyu unsure of what to do with his newfound time. He comes to the startling realisation that his days had mostly begun to consist of saying hi to Wonwoo, eating lunch with Wonwoo, and thinking about Wonwoo while still being _with_ Wonwoo.

 

Seungcheol has called him out for it more than once, something about Mingyu being an uninvolved, unsupportive best friend for ditching him so often, but Mingyu thinks he’s one to talk. The older male sticks his nose into everything he does. The memory of Seungcheol pressed up against the school cafe’s glass window, resembling a blob fish, floods Mingyu’s mind. He remembers just how mortified Wonwoo was. The councillor had wanted to read his book in the comfort of Mingyu’s company, only to get a faceful of Seungcheol pressed up against the glass and looking a lot like goo instead.

 

Ever since then, Mingyu has never let Wonwoo pick the window seat. He gets a whine and a dejected pout whenever he leads Wonwoo by the hand to the seat by the corner, but Mingyu thinks he can live with that much of tough love. Anything to avoid Seungcheol.

 

Whenever Mingyu _does_ get to see Wonwoo during his free time, however, the shorter student usually just naps against his shoulder, hoodie (often two sizes too big for him, in shades of baby pink and peach) pulled up to the tip of his nose. It's really cute, having a small, sleeping Wonwoo pressed up against his side, but Mingyu misses the conversations. Oddly enough, he also misses the walks they take in zero-degree weather, and he definitely misses the way Wonwoo laughs whenever he successfully gets a handful of snow down Mingyu’s shirt.

 

That doesn't stop Mingyu from wasting his time marveling at the way Wonwoo’s lashes brush the curve of his cheek when he's sleeping, though.

 

There are faint rings of pale blue beneath Wonwoo’s eyes, the dark shadows contrasting sharply against the soft cream of his skin. The student has definitely been pulling late nights on the regular, and Mingyu thinks it’s really unfair. He still looks pretty, unlike Mingyu during his midterms, where he had crammed (but finished) every single assignment he had in the last forty-eight hours before they were due.

 

Even kind, gentle Jisoo had told him that he looked like an undead raccoon rising from the afterlife. Wonwoo is devoting his time to the council, and barely has any left for himself (and Mingyu). He isn't unobservant enough to have missed the large amount of tissues Wonwoo has plowed through the past week.

 

So Mingyu makes it a point to pick up a hot white chocolate with extra whipped cream on his way to school the next day. When he arrives in school, Soonyoung is conveniently roaming the hallways, bundled up in his navy down jacket with a fun-sized pack of peanut butter M&Ms in his hands— he’s probably on his way to economics class, and Mingyu decides to bribe him into being his delivery boy.

 

“What’s wrong with using your own hands and feet? Don't tell me you're shy in front of your own boyfriend, ‘cause that's really kinda lame.” Soonyoung pops a chocolate into his mouth, and chews on it with the tenacity and elegance of a grazing donkey.

 

“I'm not shy, and for the last time, Wonwoo is _not_ my boyfriend—”

 

“What difference does it make? The boy looks at you like how kids at the store look at the newest Bob the Builder toy or whatever it is they're into.”

 

Mingyu is about to retaliate and throw a temper tantrum because he's _nothing_ like Bob the fucking Builder, but Soonyoung shuts him up by shoving a handful of M &Ms past his open mouth.

 

“Thing is,” Soonyoung rushes to continue, frowning as though in deep thought, “although Wonwoo probably wants the toy or something, he just looks _so darn sad_. You know, like that mature-ass kid who doesn't let himself ask for what he wants, because his parents can't afford it and all that melodramatic shit. Yeah, that's exactly what he looks like.”

 

He _what?_ No, that can't possibly be right. Mingyu needs to clarify, but the first period bell is ringing and Soonyoung is already reaching out to grab the hot chocolate from him.

 

“You know, I could _really_ get into trouble, I might be even late for class!”

 

“Wonwoo is literally in the same class as you,” Mingyu deadpans, and Soonyoung takes this as a revelation, eyes widening to two miniature moons, which, considering the original size of them, is a very commendable feat.

 

“Shit, you're kidding.”

 

Screw this romantic gesture, Mingyu really wants to dump the beverage on his friend’s head instead. He reasons with himself that a certain councillor is worth all the trouble he's going through, and resists the urge to commit murder. Soonyoung _does_ help take the drink to Wonwoo though, and no sooner has Mingyu’s settled in his seat does his phone light up with a notification. Mingyu immediately lunges for it, and mentally scolds himself for being so damn _whipped._ The message is from Soonyoung four lecture halls away.

 

_d00d, i don't think i've seen him smile that wide before? what kinda voodoo magic ru working???_

 

Mingyu tries to disguise his laughter as a cough when his math professor shoots him a scornful glare— he sounds like a suffocating walrus with too large a mouthful of air as its last breath, which it then promptly choked on and _died,_ but Mingyu really couldn't care less.

 

He’s busy typing up a reply that sounds a little too eager and contains one too many exclamation marks, when he receives another message. It’s from Wonwoo, and Mingyu doesn't even bother fighting the smile that curls at the corners of his lips. While the message is short, it’s sweet regardless, and has Mingyu’s breath catching and his heart lurching in his chest.

 

_You're the best._

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

They get to see each other during lunch break. Wonwoo is already shivering in his parka when Mingyu meets him at the school’s back gate, hands tucked into the pocket of his coat. _He looks good today,_ Mingyu thinks. A knitted beanie is pulled down to cover the tips of Wonwoo’s ears, with a pompom that bounces excitedly on top of it as he rushes to greet Mingyu.

 

“Hey." Mingyu knows Wonwoo can see the fondness in his smile. “Cute hat, it matches.”

 

Wonwoo blinks. “Matches what?”

 

“You.”

 

Mingyu reaches up to give the pompom a squeeze, and Wonwoo swats Mingyu’s hand away with an airy laugh, nose scrunching up in the same endearing way it always does. He laces their fingers together instead, so casually that it lulls Mingyu into the same false sense of intimacy he's been having for the past month. Mingyu doesn't know what to make of it and it makes him so frustratingly confused. Does Wonwoo do this with all his friends?

 

They remain silent for the walk down, the only noise being the crunch of compacted snow beneath their winter boots, and the occasional sniffle from the councillor. It's a little into December, and the weather has steadied— they get a good amount of snowfall every other day. Mingyu would and _should_ be complaining of severe frostbite and hypothermia, but today the warmth of Wonwoo’s hand against his own is almost too much to bear, and he desperately wants to ask if what they have is something special, if Wonwoo has been falling for him the same way he has been falling for the other. He doesn't though, for even the mere thought of rejection is too much to bear. There's a dull ache in his chest even Wonwoo’s presence can't soothe.

 

Mingyu is aware that he shouldn't be allowing himself to like Wonwoo so easily. He’s aware that he shouldn't get his hopes high and set himself up for inevitable hurt. Mingyu knows, but Wonwoo is making it so, _so_ hard for him with all his sincere smiles, gentle touches, and adorable antics.

 

(“Do you think the fish are cold?”

 

“What,” Mingyu mumbles around the straw of his drink, kicking at the pebbles that gather near the pond’s edge.

 

“The fish,” Wonwoo taps at the frozen pond with the branch clasped between his fingers, deep in thought. His brows are furrowed, and Mingyu has to use all his willpower to try not to focus on Wonwoo’s lips as they purse in a slight pout. “I mean, their home is frozen solid, so do you ever wonder if they're feeling cold?”

 

The question probably comes off as a little silly, but Mingyu doesn't think so. He feels lucky to get to see Wonwoo in his most genuine form, away from the prying eyes of other students and the scrutiny of teachers who insist he “lead by setting good examples”. Wonwoo might not smile enough around everybody else, but he doesn't shy away from Mingyu when they're alone— speaking his mind, making lame jokes and laughing wholeheartedly. Wonwoo is _Wonwoo_ around Mingyu, and Mingyu selfishly wants to keep him for himself.)

 

His train of thought is broken only when they arrive at the cafe. There’s the pleasant chime of bells when they enter, and Mingyu sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in the moment they step past the doors. The scent of freshly brewed coffee is comforting, and Mingyu lets himself relax just a little. Wonwoo’s longing gaze wanders to the seat by the glass windows (the one Seungcheol so generously _ruined_ for the two of them), and Mingyu decides to appease him just this once. The shorter student is delighted, and it’s when the sun illuminates him with a delicate glow that Mingyu knows he made the right decision.

 

Wonwoo picks off all the toasted almonds from the chocolate croissant Mingyu orders. He’s quiet again today, more so than usual as he sips on his hot cocoa. The silence bothers Mingyu, it gets him fidgety in his seat and he’s feeling a lot like the way he does when he's in front of an angry professor, having turned in a shit assignment he half-assed the night before.

 

Wonwoo doesn't say anything, so Mingyu doesn't ask, settling into their shared silence with a patience only reserved for the councillor. They still have plenty of time.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

They get snowed in a few days later. Mingyu wakes up to Seungcheol barrelling into his room, a pillow in hand that he uses to wallop the younger with. Mingyu doesn’t move a muscle, and Seungcheol is infinitely displeased. He climbs onto the bed (and steps all over Mingyu in the process) to wedge the pillow in the space between Mingyu’s face and the mattress.

 

“Wake up, damn it, you’re as useless as that cactus on your window sill. You know what, I should befriend that fucking succulent, it’s probably more capable of being a best friend than your sad ass ever will be.”

 

It’s getting hard to breathe with the pillow smothering him, and Seungcheol’s knees on his chest cuts off all forms of air supply to Mingyu’s lungs. Mingyu wrestles Seungcheol off of him and groans, because _why oh why_ did he have to be housemates with the reincarnation of the devil. To think Mingyu had celebrated his assignment to Dormitory A as it had shared apartments with separate rooms for each student, unlike Soonyoung and Seokmin down in the next block, who are forced to live, sleep and thrive off the immediate vicinity of each other.

 

Seungcheol gives Mingyu a hard shove back down onto the bed just as the the latter musters enough strength to sit up, and Mingyu really wants to haul his roommate out of the window. With a cackle, Seungcheol skips merrily out of the room, having accomplished his sole mission of making Mingyu’s life miserable. The prospect of a six hour round commute from his hometown to school suddenly doesn't sound too bad after all. _Why did I choose to live in the school dorms again?_ Mingyu groans and fumbles around for his phone. He finds it after stripping the bed of its blanket and pillows, tucked in the gap between the wall and mattress.

 

It's already past twelve, and Mingyu gives the notifications he received through the night (and morning) a quick once over. There's a message from Wonwoo, in the usual brief sentences that Mingyu has grown accustomed to.

 

(“Why don't you ever text me smiley faces?” Mingyu asks, flicking a piece of eraser dust off their shared table.

 

Wonwoo doesn't look up from his book and gives a noncommittal hum. “What for?”

 

“I don't know, you seem angry otherwise,” Mingyu shrugs his shoulders to feign disinterest. He doesn't want Wonwoo to know that it really does bother him quite a lot, so he rushes to add, “I can't tell what you're feeling.”

 

The reply comes out sounding sadder than Mingyu means it to, and Wonwoo picks up on the disheartened tone in his voice. The councillor dog-ears the page he's reading and sets his book down on the table, turning to face Mingyu with a smile. It's not the most reassuring, but then Wonwoo’s eyes shine as he speaks the words, “Mingyu, I'm always happy with you.”

 

Since then, Mingyu stopped giving mind to the seemingly lack of emotion in Wonwoo's texts.)

 

Today, Wonwoo’s message simply reads, _it's white outside, but will you come over?_

 

Mingyu has only been to Wonwoo’s room a grand total of three times. The last time he had been there, Mingyu was supposed to collect a borrowed sweater. He ends up baking a batch of chocolate chip cookies in the kitchen with Wonwoo. (Although he really just sat on the marble countertop, legs swinging as he took unabashed nibbles out of the cookie dough.) Mingyu chooses to conveniently ignore the fact that he never got the sweater back in the end.

 

The councillor lives a seven minute walk away, all the way over in Dormitory E. It's the newest expansion of the school’s living quarters, having only been completed when they were in junior year— its rooms are usually assigned to only students of leadership positions. Wonwoo shares his with class monitor and best friend Lee Jihoon, whom Mingyu thinks is the rawest form of evil compacted into a cute marshmallow.

 

“Where are you going? You ain't even close to a damn snowplough, it's impossible to leave the dorms.”

 

Seungcheol speaks around a mouthful of buttered toast, and he's spread out on the couch with toffee wrappers littered around him, hair still sticking out in all places from sleep. There's that chick flick Hansol watches playing on the TV, and Seungcheol looks like he's not left the house for a pitiful month. At least he finally shaved this morning, after days of looking like a scruffy hobo.

 

“I'm not leaving the dorms, just heading to Wonwoo’s.”

 

“Wonwoo _again,_ when are you ever going to give me a little lovin’?” Seungcheol kicks his legs against the couch in a petty tantrum. He gathers a handful of toffee sweets from the candy bowl and starts to pelt them at his best friend.

 

“Say, is his roommate that tiny fairy with pink cotton candy for hair, and temper issues twice his size?”

 

Mingyu crinkles his nose in disgust. “Gross, you don't deserve my love. Yeah, the fairy’s name is Jihoon. Are you over Jeonghan now?”

 

“I was never _that_ into Jeonghan.”

 

“You retook a whole damn year because Jeonghan failed his promotion criteria, you shameless liar, you were _crying_ to me about how you couldn't graduate without him— I still remember when you used to be my _senior_ , you know.”

 

“And I can still pass off as your age,” Seungcheol retaliates, “Jihoon’s cute. Tell your councillor boyfriend that I'll be dropping by too.”

 

“Wonwoo's _not_ my— You can't just—”

 

Seungcheol catapults all their candy in Mingyu’s direction despite his protests, and flings the decorational bowl along with it. It collides with the ground, and the last thing Mingyu needs is loud noises and perfectly good toffees pooling at his feet. _Fuck it_ , Mingyu just wants to see Wonwoo.

 

That's how he ends up in Wonwoo’s dorm with Seungcheol in tow. Jihoon is home, to Mingyu's relief, because Seungcheol's now too busy with poor attempts of chatting up the class monitor than to tease Mingyu.

 

Mingyu locks himself in Wonwoo’s room and cuddles up in the other’s warm blankets (lying in a bed that's not his own, the owner seated cross-legged at the foot of it instead) while Wonwoo wordlessly flips through his notes from economics class.

 

“You can't ask me over and choose to _study_ instead, Wonwoo,” Mingyu whines.

 

Wonwoo raises his eyebrows at this, lips upturned in amusement. He’s in the same stolen sweater today, and it hangs loosely from his shoulders, revealing a smooth expanse of skin and pale collarbones that contrast against the midnight blue of the fabric. That might have very well once been Mingyu’s favourite sweater, and it still is, just that he prefers it on Wonwoo now instead.

 

“Bold statement. I can't ask for your company?”

 

“Not to study, no,” Mingyu persists, “You should be sleeping when you're snowed in.”

 

“You're taking up my bed—”

 

“We can share,” Mingyu cuts Wonwoo’s sentence off and tugs the smaller male over by his wrist. He doesn't even attempt to put up a fight, and Mingyu soon has him trapped within the confinements of his own blanket.

 

“Now sleep.”

 

“So it's fine to ask you over, and choose to _sleep_?” Wonwoo muses, and the playful tone evident in his voice is stupidly _attractive._

 

Mingyu doesn't answer this. Not when Wonwoo's so close, pressed up against Mingyu’s chest, their breaths tickling each other’s cheek. They're _almost_ nose to nose, and Wonwoo’s looking at him with eyes that are so hopeful and trusting, that it leaves Mingyu breathless. He wishes he could stop time, to keep this moment to himself forever.

 

The pang of disappointment Mingyu gets when Wonwoo gently pushes him away is hard to ignore, yet he does nothing to stop Wonwoo from rolling over to lay on his other side. But even with his back towards Mingyu, Wonwoo’s suppressed giggles don’t go unheard. Surprisingly enough, Wonwoo complies with the request, and he's soon napping his afternoon away with Mingyu by his side, snow slowly falling from the sky right outside his window, adorning the trees with thick, fluffy pillows and shrouding the landscape in a glistening white.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

There's a slam against the door, then another. It vaguely sounds like someone running right into the polished wood, and it startles Mingyu awake. He can hear indistinct voices from behind the door, and while he can make out the frantic undercurrents in them, it's impossible to decipher who they belong to. Mingyu thinks he’s a fucking genius for locking the door earlier on.

 

Wonwoo is still soundly asleep, and he doesn't stir. Whoever’s on the other side of the door is now knocking in a frenzied rhythm, at a pace so quick that it makes Mingyu worry. Was there a serial killer in the dorm? Or was it just Seungcheol being an intrusive douchebag again, with Jihoon as his accomplice?

 

It's neither. Annoyed, Mingyu flings the door open with so much force he's genuinely surprised it didn't unhinge from the doorframe.

 

“Since when do you ever lock— Woah, Mingyu, my man! No one told me you were gonna be in here!” Hansol claps his hand a little too hard on Mingyu’s shoulder, the student wondering about what could possibly bring the head councillor over. Jisoo’s head pops up from behind him, and he looks equally as happy to see their tall friend. Even Jeonghan is here, but that's probably only because he follows Jisoo everywhere like a lost puppy.

 

“I was just... visiting.”

 

“Shit, you're hanging out with someone who's sleeping? You must be deadass boring,” Hansol quips as he cranes his neck to peer past Mingyu's shoulders, clearly spotting the blanketed lump on the bed.

 

Mingyu pretends to have never heard that. “What's this about, dude, is it the Christmas party again?”

 

That sets something off in Hansol, because his jaw sets in place and his eyes narrow in a manner that is so threatening, Mingyu actually feels scared. Mingyu is pushed out of the way and can only watch helplessly as Wonwoo is rudely shaken awake. The boy is awfully taken aback, and Mingyu thinks he looks so tiny and defenseless wrapped up in the thick duvet, staring at his superiors with big, round eyes. It makes Mingyu feel guilty for opening the door in the first place.

 

“My dear Wonwoo _,_ you wouldn't believe what the principal just told me— I’m so mad, I could set his damn office ablaze!”

 

Wonwoo opens his mouth to form a reply, but Hansol charges forward. “ _He_ told _me_ that we can't throw the Christmas party anymore because the school would be _under construction_ over winter break! Can you believe him? Who the heck does he think he is, this is _my_ school, and he thinks it's funny to send it for repair without _my_ knowledge!”

 

Mingyu wants to point out that Hansol is only president of the student body— not the whole school— but Jisoo is nodding despondently to the head councillor’s every word, and Wonwoo’s face is beginning to look a little crestfallen.

 

“It's cancelled?” Wonwoo asks.

 

“Yes!” Hansol deflates and falls onto Wonwoo’s bed with his hands pressed to the sides of his face, dragging his cheeks down. He flings himself down a little too hard and bounces off the mattress instead, tumbling to the ground. Mingyu would have helped him up, but he's distracted by how Wonwoo’s gaze has hardened to one of surprise and disappointment.

 

Mingyu knows how much the councillors must have slaved over the planning of their Christmas party. He’s been following their progress through Wonwoo’s periodical updates and can't even begin to count the number of times Wonwoo’s ass has been hauled back to meetings (plus Hansol sobbing audibly while curled up on the carpet is enough indication of the crazy amount of work they’d put in).

 

Jisoo and Jeonghan both try to pacify the weeping president, and Mingyu is essentially just standing there like an idiot. Jihoon barges into the bedroom, and is appropriately confused at the scene playing out before him.

 

“What’s with the damn crying fest?” he demands, and he’s looking up at Mingyu with the most accusing stare ever. Jihoon strangely reminds Mingyu of that potted cactus Seungcheol mentioned earlier— all prickly and not a single ounce of fun— and he makes it a mental note to dispose of the plant when he gets back.

 

Nevermind the fact that the top of Jihoon’s head stops below his shoulder and that he has to tip his chin up to the ceiling in order to even _look_ at Mingyu, the taller student feels like a lowly ant being fried by sunlight under the glare of a magnifying glass.

 

The condemning glare has Mingyu’s guards going up, and because he’s feeling thoroughly attacked, he says rather defensively, “Why are you looking at _me?_ I didn’t do anything to make Hansol cry.”

 

“It’s true,” Hansol wails loudly, chest heaving with broken sobs, “Mingyu didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing could have prevented it, it was inevitable.”

 

The president blows his nose into the tissue Jeonghan kindly offers him, and even Wonwoo is climbing out of bed to pat his head consolingly. (Jisoo, well, has his head bowed at Jihoon out of politeness— he still doesn’t seem to get that as the _vice president_ of the student body, _he_ commanded more respect than his class monitor ever would.)

 

“We could always host the party somewhere else, you know?” Wonwoo’s voice is still deep and raspy from having just woken up, his hair tousled and falling in disarray over his forehead. He’s looking a little too domestic and at home, and Mingyu has to force himself not to imagine how waking up to Wonwoo on snowy mornings would be like on a regular basis.

 

Hansol seems to take to the suggestion, because he lunges for Wonwoo and knocks him over. Wonwoo’s trapped in a suffocating hug and he looks over to Mingyu with eyes that plead for help, arms flailing around in distress. Mingyu snaps out of his reverie and helps to peel Hansol off of Wonwoo, the head councillor refusing to let go and looking like he was ready to kiss the other student right there and then (not that Mingyu would ever allow it).

 

“Bless you, my secretary! You have just given me the best idea in the world— We’ll throw the Christmas party in my _dorm_!” It's as though Hansol was never crying as he jumps to his feet excitedly, it’s kind of like witnessing Pikachu discover that Ash isn't really dead after all. Jihoon slaps a hand to his forehead and groans in undisguised disbelief.

 

Jisoo makes an indignant noise (it's understandable considering how Hansol _shares_ his dorm with him), and points out that their unit couldn't possibly house that many students.

 

Hansol returns to his semi-comatose, depressed, self-pitying state on the floor until Jeonghan helpfully suggests to make the party exclusive to their circle of friends. The president bounces up again and has everyone present in the room swear on their life to attend the party. (Seungcheol included, because he's still attracted to Jeonghan by an invisible magnet and was in the room trying to steal not-so-discreet glances at the pretty, long-haired male.)

 

Mingyu helps Wonwoo to his feet, and the smaller student immediately scoots back to his side of the bed, patting the empty space beside him expectantly. Mingyu hesitates, because there are five other pairs of probing and scrutinizing eyes in the room, damn it, but he does it anyway. Wonwoo immediately makes himself comfortable against his shoulder, blanket tucked under his chin.

 

Seungcheol starts making blatant kissy noises, and Mingyu mouths a blatant _fuck you_ in his direction _._

 

Hansol's already out of the room, going on about ordering a smaller Christmas tree and assigning everyone secret Santas. He drags Jisoo along, and Jeonghan follows after, as if part of a 1-for-1 combo deal.

 

Jihoon grabs a fistful of Seungcheol’s sleeve and starts to make his way towards the door, and Mingyu can hear him mutter something along the lines of, “I get that _you_ want to invade your buddy’s privacy, but I have to protect _my_ best friend.” Seungcheol protests, but Jihoon shoots him a look so withering it shuts him up immediately. The student’s smaller frame evidently doesn't stop him from roughly dragging Seungcheol outside with a strange ease.

 

They're left alone after that, and it’s quiet and peaceful, almost like the whole shebang never happened. Wonwoo pulls Mingyu back down on the bed and throws the covers over them both (he does hoard the majority of it though), but this time, he’s curled around Mingyu’s arm as he falls asleep.

 

The taller student takes his time studying each of Wonwoo’s defined features, and his heart kinda wants to die. Mingyu makes a silent promise to himself to attend every single party the student council throws, if only to see Wonwoo and his smile. 

 

Christmas is the time for giving. Mingyu thinks he's blessed enough to have been given the chance to meet Wonwoo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back christmas came early!
> 
> no I'm just kidding the second chapter will only come on christmas day pls anticipate the christmas party
> 
> can someone tell me if it's obvious that I'm writing crack (because I am ᕕ( ᐕ )ᕗ) it's just disguised as fluff and angst man
> 
> sends winter kisses to my beta chorusofthesong muah muah accept my love
> 
> this is part of my holiday series, _season's greetings_ , please read halloween part one (let's get sheet-faced) if you haven't!
> 
> please leave comments to let me know if you liked it, I do love them comments & I hope you enjoyed your read! ♡
> 
> come talk to me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bbaekstillcute) @bbaekstillcute!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mingyu's buddies all sabotage him, and he's left to question his choice of friends yet again. It's a struggle to think of a gift, and Hansol's Christmas party goes off with a blast.

It's a week before Christmas when Hansol calls for an urgent meeting in the secluded washroom on the second level of Block F. Hansol had christened that particular washroom as his second home, and taken it upon himself to decorate it a long while ago— no one outside his circle of friends actually _uses_ it, in fear of setting the school’s president off.

 

The empty hallways remind Mingyu of the Halloween party, and he finds himself smiling at the memory. He’s running a little late to the meeting since his math professor held the entire class back after losing his purple marker, completely convinced it was stolen by one of his students only to realize after ten minutes that the damn marker was in his hands all along.

 

Everyone else is already accounted for when Mingyu pushes past the washroom door. His jaw falls. It’s the cleanest and most lavish washroom he has ever been in, with the individual cubicles hidden tastefully in a line by the far wall and vessel sinks perched on what looked like bespoken cabinets. Framed mirrors adorn the walls, making the already large space seem even bigger than before, and Mingyu detects a lovely hint of magnolia and cream in the air. He wants to slap himself when he spots the built-in bathtub at the side, disbelieving his eyes. He wonders just which devil Hansol had sold his soul to for such blatant extravagance.

 

The other boys are littered around the room in variable states of boredom, some standing about, others sprawled on the numerous lounges and bean bags artfully arranged in a cozy fashion.

 

Hansol is standing on the marble countertop, feet on either sides of a sink with an inexplicably bored expression. Wonwoo is sitting cross-legged beside him, and he’s turning the faucet on and off repeatedly, staring blankly at the wasted water that washes down the sink.

 

Jisoo’s wrapping Jeonghan’s right arm up in toilet paper, and Jihoon watches as Seungcheol puts his head under the hand dryer, hot air blowing directly at his face.

 

Student councillors Chan and Seungkwan are present too, playing pattycake in the corner. They all seem like they’ve been waiting for Mingyu forever, and it makes him feel rather guilty.

 

“Mingyu!” he hears someone cry, and _hold up_ , that sounds a lot like...

 

Soonyoung’s face pops up from behind the door, and it almost makes Mingyu’s legs give way in shock. He wasn’t expecting to see his friend here, and he’s even more confused when Seokmin steps out of a cubicle, the toilet flushing behind him. He pushes past his two friends to see literature classmate Junhui and lab partner Minghao reclined on the velvet couch (Hansol had personally requested for it, and since he was still a crucially important asset to the council, the principal _had_ to accommodate him).

 

“Was there recruitment?” Mingyu asks, and he tries not to notice how Wonwoo perks up at the very sound of his voice.

 

“No,” Hansol yells from atop the sink, before attempting to blow bubbles with the bar of soap in his hand, “They’re plus-ones!”

 

“Who on earth would make Soonyoung and Seokmin their plus-one?”

 

Seungkwan’s hand shoots up, but he’s in the middle of his pattycake relay, so Chan accidentally smacks him in the face. He falls over in pain, writhing on the tufted rug they’re seated on.

 

“I made them my plus-one, but you didn’t have to smack me for it,” Seungkwan weeps, hands covering his face. Chan throws himself over the other student councillor, mindlessly rambling all sorts of apologies.

 

“Technically, we’re plus-twos!” Seokmin cheers, plopping himself onto the bean bags that sit snugly in the same corner. He reaches a hand out to pat Seungkwan’s head, “Thanks, man.”

 

“We’re plus-twos too, Chan invited us.” Junhui gives Mingyu a friendly wave, while Minghao gives him the finger in greeting.

 

Hansol hops off of the counter, and ends up tumbling to the ground. The fall doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest, kinda like an indestructible roly-poly doll, and he pulls the beanie he has off his head, beckoning everyone closer.

 

“We’re going to play secret Santa! Everyone has to pick a name from my hat, no excuses.”

 

“The actual fuck, you kept the name slips in the beanie you wore on your _head?_ That’s so disgusting,” Jihoon says, reaching for the bottle of vanilla cupcake-scented hand sanitizer on the sink.

 

Jisoo doesn’t seem to care as he volunteers to pick first, reaching into the bag and pulling out a small square of origami paper. He immediately hugs it against his chest, looking around almost suspiciously, and locks himself up in the furthest cubicle to take a look at it.

 

Seungcheol goes next, and he lets a whoop, punching a victorious fist in the air.

 

Mingyu is about to draw a name when Hansol stops him. He suddenly finds himself wrestled out of the bathroom by Junhui and Minghao, the door closing behind him with a click of the lock. _What the fuck?_ There’s a ruckus in the washroom, Mingyu can tell from Hansol’s honking noises and Jihoon’s obnoxious laughter, before it goes quiet and Wonwoo is sent to unlock the door. Wonwoo doesn’t offer him any explanation, an unreadable expression on his face, and Mingyu returns to everyone else looking at him like a fucking circus act.

 

Hansol holds up the beanie and _what the fuck?_ Mingyu is presented with a yellow beanie, unlike the white one the president was previously wearing, with slips of paper spilling over its brim.

 

“Take your pick!”

 

“You’re kidding me, this isn’t the same hat.” Mingyu glares at the head councillor, who’s looking so happy to the point it’s suspicious, “Are you rigging my choice?”

 

“What are you saying, everyone else picked from this hat!” Hansol defends himself and widens his eyes to feign innocence, but Mingyu thinks he looks terrifying. Everyone else seems to be backing the head councillor up, and Mingyu has no other choice but to draw a name from the hat.

 

He has a really, _really_ bad feeling about this, and it makes his stomach churn with dread. Mingyu digs through the paper strips (he appreciates that Hansol had the courtesy to at least give him the illusion of choice), and is praying to every deity that comes to his mind to let it be anyone but…

 

Mingyu pulls a slip of paper from the hat and holds his breath as he unfolds it. Hansol’s penmanship is so fucking ugly and illegible, Mingyu has to take a moment to decipher the single name written on the paper.

 

_Wonwoo._

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

Fuck this, Mingyu admits he makes the _worst_ secret Santa ever. Hypothetically speaking, if he was assigned to _Seungcheol_ instead, however, he’d probably be the best gift-giver. They've been exchanging gifts for _years,_ and they have slowly evolved from game cartridges lovingly wrapped in shiny foil (with the help of their mothers) to boxes of condoms and bottles of Windex with a decorative ribbon carelessly slapped onto them. At least they always made the effort to pick the ribbon out in red and green though.

 

Mingyu almost gives himself an aneurysm trying to think of a gift for Wonwoo. Although he has more than a week’s time to deliberate over it, Mingyu doesn’t want to give the councillor any ordinary, run-of-the-mill type of present. He wants to give Wonwoo something with meaning, something that holds more importance than just a simple gift from a friend for reasons he hasn’t yet properly determined. Something more personal? Wonwoo’s definitely worth the extra effort.

 

How about a sweater? No, Wonwoo has an abundance of them, and even seems to have a growing taste for the ones he finds while digging through Mingyu’s closet. If there’s anyone who needs a sweater, it’s Mingyu, considering how he lets the student councillor steal every single last one he owns.

 

The lady in the gift shop proudly recommends _a season’s greetings card_ , and Mingyu wants to cry as he flips through one that reads _let me jingle your balls_ in cursive writing. Clothing stores offer nothing more than a wide arrangement of winter wear— fleece jackets, knitted caps, woolen socks, nothing more than what Wonwoo already owns. Mingyu briefly lingers in the mall’s bookstore, but then again, what’s special about a book when Wonwoo already has a whole collection of them?

 

Cute knick-knacks don't make the cut either, Mingyu thinks they all just end up as playthings to be put on display (just like the Russian doll that Soonyoung gifted him last Christmas; it sits on Mingyu’s tabletop and stares at him with its unmoving, beady eyes).

 

He’s feeling very out of place and very self-conscious in the stuffed animal section of Toys “R” Us, with little kids stopping in their tracks to stare at him like he's the tallest walking skyscraper they've ever seen, lollipops tucked in their cheeks.

 

To his utmost horror, one little boy even tries to shoot him down with a Nerf gun, screaming to his mother that he's tackling a monstrous beast. The child then attempts to scale Mingyu, and conquer him like he’s Mount fucking Everest or something. Needless to say, the kid immediately gets dragged out by his embarrassed mother, and Mingyu, childish as he is, sticks a tongue out at his tiny assailant.

 

Some preppy salesgirl takes a liking to Mingyu, batting her false lashes and twirling a lock of hair around her fingertip as she suggests a bear for his _girlfriend._

 

Mingyu wants to say that it's not a girl he’s getting the gift for, but the salesgirl is pushing their best seller into his arms— two stuffed bears with their arms around each other, one white and one tan, sharing a single scarf that envelops their round bodies. It's kinda cute, the smaller white bear reminds Mingyu of Wonwoo and the other one of himself, and… shit, why hasn't he thought of this earlier?

 

Mingyu is going to _knit_ Wonwoo a scarf for Christmas.

 

He rushes out of the store empty-handed, much to the salesgirl’s disappointment, and has his mother on the phone while he browses through the different types of needles and balls of yarn in the handicraft store.

 

She slowly guides him through the selection process, but not before she drills and pummels him to the ground with an onslaught of questions, leaving him feeling a lot like beaten orange pulp after someone (his mother) has squeezed the fruit to an inch of its life.

 

_(“My son? Learning how to knit? This can't be true. Are you trying to win someone over? Why on earth would you want a crash course on knitting?”_

 

_“Kim Mingyu, have you gotten yourself another girlfriend without telling your mum? Haven't you learned from your mistakes? That previous girl and her obsession with marriage was hard enough to get rid off.”_

 

 _“Who is this special somebody you're knitting for? You’ve never done that for me, and I’m your_ mother _.”)_

 

Mingyu ignores all of them. He’s feeling pleased with himself when he arrives back in the dorm with all his knitting supplies, but that confidence slowly dissipates into thin air when his fingers tangle up in all the yarn and he stabs himself in the face one too many times with the needle (he was leaning too close). It leaves him feeling extremely demoralised, like he has feet for hands and the same capacity for creativity a garden slug would possess.

 

There are YouTube tutorials playing from Mingyu’s laptop and printed manual sheets strewn across the room when Seungcheol returns to their dorm much later. Mingyu has something that vaguely resembles a scarf in his hands (the knots are far too loose and the scarf is terribly out of shape), but he's curled in on himself on the bed, fast asleep.

 

Seungcheol is genuinely surprised. In the fifteen long years since he’s known Mingyu, he has never witnessed the boy put in so much effort for a single person. It makes him proud to see Mingyu finally being _sincere_ , finally being serious about liking someone.

 

For the first time, Seungcheol doesn't make fun of his best friend. He doesn't slap him awake with pillows but helps pack up the loose sheets of paper instead, throwing a blanket over Mingyu’s sleeping figure.

 

The whole week is what it takes for Mingyu to finally get the hang of knitting. Amidst many calls to his mother (he places her on speed dial) and over four trips back to the mall (the yarn runs out quickly from the sheer number of times Mingyu fucks up), the scarf begins to take form. Thank goodness for winter break, because Mingyu doesn't think he’d be able to handle going to school to learn about carbonyl compounds and Othello’s greatest struggles in life, on top of returning to the dorms to practice his knitting.

 

Wonwoo drops by unannounced somewhere during the week. Mingyu almost kills himself making a mad dash to his room— it's an absolute mess with loose threads clinging to every piece of furniture he owns, and the unfinished scarf lies somewhere amongst the ruffled bedsheets— looking very much like a stampeding buffalo fighting its way to the last water hole in a god forsaken desert. The student councillor doesn’t question why he's suddenly banned from Mingyu’s bedroom (even after having taken many naps in it), and busies himself with writing Christmas cards on the carpet of the living room instead.

 

The scarf is completed on the night of Christmas Eve. It comes out decent enough, in different hues of navy blues and purples mixed with a muted grey. There’s even a matching grey pompom sewn onto each end. Fingers sore, pricked and plastered in the aftermath of his knitting quest, Mingyu’s glad that at least his gift would match well with that beanie Wonwoo always wears to school.

 

He even gets praised by his roommate for all the hard work— Seungcheol brings a bowl of Lucky Charms to his room, saying he doesn't want Mingyu to “die from starvation a day before Christmas” lest everyone gets bad karma for not feeding him. It's an exaggeration more than anything, Mingyu had only skipped his lunch and dinner in favour of completing the scarf.

 

Mingyu goes to sleep that night with his last thoughts being that of Wonwoo, truly hoping that the councillor would like his gift.

 

﹍﹎﹍﹎﹍﹎

 

“You're under the mistletoe!”

 

Mingyu lifts his head, and sure enough, Hansol is precariously dangling a mistletoe over his head, attached with masking tape to the end of a broom. Wonwoo’s face is set in a decidedly neutral expression as he rips the tool from the president’s hands, whacking him over the head with the bristled end instead.

 

The blunt force knocks the Rudolph nose Hansol has on right off his face, and the president looks impossibly scandalised as the red styrofoam ball rolls under the couch.

 

“Go away,” Wonwoo says, and he's being extra pouty about it as he murderously plucks a gumdrop button from the crumbly body of his gingerbread man. He’s bundled up in a tacky Christmas sweater— the classic red and green ones you can get off Ebay for a few bucks— and there’s a pair of small reindeer antlers clipped into his hair.

 

“Sheesh, what's got your panties in a dead knot? You're going against the traditions of Christmas, man.” Hansol accuses, before wandering off to stick the mistletoe into the faces of Junhui and Minghao. “Gotcha! Now kiss!”

 

Much to Hansol’s delight, the two Chinese students do not hesitate the slightest in leaning over and locking lips with each other. The kiss is closed-lipped and considerably brief, but it sets the whole room off in a chaos of annoying howls and wolf whistles. (It makes Mingyu envious too, but that's not something you'll ever hear coming from his mouth.) Chan hides his face in his Santa hat, and apologises for even inviting the pair to their party in the first place.

 

The head councillor continues to try his luck in making his buddies kiss— he waves the stupid mistletoe over Jisoo and Jeonghan in the kitchen, then Seungcheol and Jihoon by the veranda— but fails to get any more lip action. Hansol does manage to coax a blushing vice president into pressing a kiss to Jeonghan’s cheek though, and he squeezes a considerable threat out of Jihoon too, the cute little bugger.

 

He loses interest in the mistletoe fairly quickly, and everyone gathers in the entertainment room. Hansol and Jisoo share the biggest living quarters in Dormitory E, considering how they're the president and second-in-charge.

 

The two, being busy as heck, do not have the time to go around visiting the other dorms, and this is amplified by their shared tendency to severely underestimate the considerable luxury of their living quarters. (“Oh yeah, these bedsheets are made of 750 thread count Egyptian cotton, they make a pretty good face towelette when I run out of clean ones.”)

 

All thirteen of them assemble in the room, and although it can definitely accommodate all of them standing, it's a tight fit once they've all sprawled out on the floor. There's a call for everyone to sit in a circle, and the students take some time to arrange their limbs in a strategic way, ensuring no fingers poke at anyone’s eyeballs and no feet are stuck right in anybody else's face.

 

Mingyu has Wonwoo semi-draped over him like a rag doll— the smaller student is forced to move aside and encroach upon Mingyu’s space when Hansol purposefully plants his invasive ass between him and Jihoon. Wonwoo shifts uncomfortably in his position, arm and leg bent at such an awkward angle, Mingyu's afraid they're about to snap clean off his body.

 

“As tiny as you are, Wonwoo, I don't think you fit.”

 

Wonwoo laughs at this despite himself, and says, “Shut up, the one taking up most of the space is _you_ , jerk. It's either this or your lap.”

 

In retrospect, there was a good chance the student councillor might have just been joking, but Mingyu doesn't give it much thought when he pulls Wonwoo onto his lap without further preamble. The boy yelps, hands reaching out to blindly grab at Mingyu’s arm to steady himself.

 

“Damn, I know y'all dating—”

 

“Happily married,” Seokmin helpfully supplies from his position stretched out over Soonyoung’s legs.

 

Minghao lets out a hoot of laughter at that, and holds his hand up for a high-five (one that Seokmin gladly reciprocates, as the two of them have been getting along well recently), before he continues, correcting himself, “— I know y’all happily married, but would you keep the _touchy-feely_ _kinky-dinky_ to a minimum?”

 

The choice of words is so terrible, even _Hansol_ who's reaching for the tapioca chips in the middle of the circle recoils his arm and crumples his face in disgust, like he just had a mouthful of Warheads dipped in lemon juice.

 

“We’re not together,” Wonwoo clarifies, voice small and shoulders slumped in such an unconvincing way, Mingyu wouldn't have believed him either if not for the fact that he was the other party in question. He doesn't make any effort to move from Mingyu’s lap though, and Mingyu takes that as a green light to rest his chin on the other’s shoulder.

 

“But—”

 

“Whatever!” Hansol cuts Minghao off mid-sentence and drums his feet against the carpet in annoyance. “We’re going to reveal our secret Santas!”

 

“In what order?” Jeonghan asks, and Hansol directs flying kisses in his direction, because at least _someone_ is speaking his lingo.

 

“How about we start with the ugliest? I volunteer Mingyu!” Seungcheol attempts to tag his best friend by sending a cushion flying across the room, but misses his target and hits Wonwoo square in the face instead.

 

“Hah, if anything, _you_ would be up first.” says Jihoon, “But it looks like Wonwoo has taken the hit for us all, so he can start, I guess.”

 

Wonwoo gifts Chan a collector’s edition of Michael Jackson’s _Dangerous_ , the album a first printed version and still sealed in its glittering plastic wrap. The junior councillor has a mini meltdown in the corner of the room, eyes brimming with cartoonish tears of gratitude. Wonwoo lets out a happy laugh and affectionately pats Chan’s hair when the kid barges head first into him (and Mingyu) in an attempt to give him a hug.

 

Chan automatically goes next, giving Soonyoung a solar-powered dancing cat, and the gift-giving relay continues accordingly. Hansol’s apparently matched to his right-hand man, and he presents Jisoo with a thirty-inch panda doll along with a framed certificate, authenticated with a WWF stamp.

 

“You’re a father!” Hansol says gleefully, going so far as to also provide an A5 picture of the giant panda he had adopted under Jisoo’s name. “I got you a panda, because it has dark circles around its eyes, just _like_ you!”

 

In a similar fashion, terrible gifts continue to make their rounds.

 

Seokmin gets Jihoon a set of LED fairy lights to hang in his room, because he “reminds him of a tiny spring fairy jumping from flower to flower”, or something along those lines. Wonwoo has to physically hold Jihoon down to stop him from strangling Seokmin with the wires instead.

 

Minghao receives a self-taken Polaroid from Junhui (“Take me, for I bless you with the gift of my face!”) embellished with cheap, plastic crystals and glitter glue. It’s a short while till it’s finally Seungcheol’s turn to play Santa, and everyone except Mingyu and Wonwoo has received their gifts. Mingyu knows he's assigned to Wonwoo, so that leaves— Seungcheol. _Fuck_ , his secret Santa is none other than his best friend, who’s giving him the most self-satisfied and smug grin he’s ever seen.

 

Seungcheol disappears from the room, only to wheel in a zip-up closet a few moments later, the kind made out of non-woven fabric. It’s already unzipped, interior empty and devoid of any shelving. Not a single occupant of the room looks surprised, but rather, they’re having a fucking laughing fest— even innocent Chan has doubled over in amusement, slapping at Jeonghan’s thigh as his laughter fills the room— _what_ _have_ _they_ done _to that little angel?_

 

Seungcheol hums and bobs his head to the tune of Jingle Bells playing from Hansol’s extensive stereo system (“Surround sound, baby!”), and pulls a party popper over the circle of friends.

 

“You got me a closet...?” Mingyu picks the confetti out of his hair, voice trailing off at the end as he tries to comprehend the logic behind Seungcheol's gift. What happened to the very predictable and customary boxes of sex protectant?

 

“That’s not the best part!” Seungcheol squeals excitedly, and Mingyu watches in faint horror as his friend wraps a satin ribbon around Wonwoo’s head, starting from under his chin and pulling it up to frame the sides of his face. Seungcheol ties it off in a big, red bow on top of the student councillor’s head (it knocks those cute antlers out of place in the process, much to Mingyu’s dismay). He steps back to admire his handiwork, and gestures at Wonwoo with his hands. “Tada!”

 

“You’re giving me _Wonwoo_ for Christmas?”

 

Wonwoo’s face is impassive and cluelessly blank, his rapid blinking the only indicator of any emotion as he looks up at Seungcheol with a forlorn frown. Mingyu thinks the world would be a better place if _everyone_ filed for a restraining order against his best friend.

 

“ _Seven minutes in heaven,_ baby! Pucker up,” Seungcheol yells, and then he’s dragging Wonwoo up by his arm, ushering him into the closet. Mingyu is manhandled into it next, and he barely has any time to react before Seungcheol is zipping the closet shut from the outside, enclosing the two of them in.

 

“I got you the most opaque one I could find, for _maximum_ privacy!”

 

The closet is definitely too small and Mingyu finds his limbs in a tangled mess along with Wonwoo’s. Its dimensions couldn't possibly be any bigger than that pathetic excuse of an aquarium Mingyu had as a child, the one that was home to only two sea snails and a clown fish or whatever. Screw it, this damn closet was built to fit no more than a few winter coats, and certainly not a lanky teenager with uncontrollable arms plus the tendency to break everything in sight, let alone two.

 

There's the silhouette of a hand pressing against the flimsy cloth of the closet door, and judging by the voice that accompanies it, it's Jihoon. “I'm sorry, Wonwoo— buddy, but this had to be done. I’ll be here to save you in like, seven minutes. Tell him everything!”

 

There's still some light streaming through the thin fabric, and Mingyu can see Wonwoo frantically trying to grab at Jihoon’s hand, but obviously to no avail.

 

“I don't have anything to tell him,” Wonwoo cries out uncharacteristically, and it makes Mingyu wonder what goes on in their dorm when he isn't there to invade it.

 

“Don't lie, you talk about Mingyu every night,” Jihoon responds with a snort, and then the hand is gone, along with everyone else. It's definitely only because Jihoon kicks their asses out of the room— even at this crucial juncture, Wonwoo _still_ has Jihoon to count on, the short student hellbent on protecting his friend’s privacy from any kind of violation by a bunch of goons.

 

Meanwhile, Mingyu can hear his _own_ best friend complaining, and it makes him question how he managed to make such bad choices. It takes a considerable while to clear the room with Seungcheol’s refusal to cooperate, and with Soonyoung trying to pull the I-am-Mingyu’s-mother-so-I-have-the-rights-to-my-own-son card.

 

The room door slams shut, and suddenly it's _too_ quiet. Even though they’re shrouded in almost complete darkness and Mingyu is sure Wonwoo can't see him all too well, he finds himself being extremely self-conscious. His knees are tucked to his chest in an attempt to squeeze (and disappear) into the corner, but he can almost _feel_ the heat radiating off of Wonwoo from their close proximity. He hears Wonwoo’s steady breathing, and takes a moment to level his own.

 

Mingyu has been alone with Wonwoo countless of times, they nap in the same bed, drink from the same straw, share the same clothes. So why on earth is he feeling so restless?

 

His own gift for Wonwoo is still in his hands, and Mingyu thinks it's fucking _do or die_ time _._

 

“Merry Christmas,” he says lamely, chucking the gift into Wonwoo’s hands. _Fuck,_ that was not what he was supposed to say. _Kim Mingyu, why bother learning how to speak when you're better off keeping your sorry mouth shut?_

 

Wonwoo apparently hasn't recovered from his friend’s betrayal, because he takes a moment to react. There's the sound of paper crinkling and tearing as he slowly unwraps the gift, and Mingyu doesn't dare move an inch.

 

In the silence of the room, Mingyu manages to catch Wonwoo’s small exhale of breath, and he _knows_ the other boy has seen his gift. There's no indication for sure though, and it sends Mingyu’s brain into overdrive, his nerves already on edge. He's teetering so close on the edge of insanity, he fails to stop the word vomit that spills carelessly from his mouth.

 

“I made it for you! I mean, not the material, but like— I put it all together, you know? With those big needles. _Shit,_ this is terrible. What I meant was, I knitted it, specially for you—”

 

Mingyu is cut short by the hand that finds its way to his own. It's a familiar touch, one that Mingyu knows by heart, and he lets himself take a deep, shaky breath as he closes his fingers around Wonwoo’s.

 

“I love it,” Wonwoo whispers, voice light and breathy, and Mingyu can practically _hear_ the smile in his voice. He’s a little disappointed and wishes he was able to see Wonwoo’s reaction, but the student gives his hand a gentle squeeze and that's enough consolation.

 

It goes quiet again, and maybe it's the reassurance he gets from Wonwoo’s slender fingers fitting perfectly between the gaps of his own, but Mingyu finds the courage in him to speak first. It’s now or never, and Mingyu doesn't think he'll forgive himself if he misses the chance to tell Wonwoo just how precious he is to him.

 

“I like you,” he admits, “a lot— it's getting out of hand, I think about you every day.”

 

It's a lot harder to express his feelings now that he's started, and Mingyu can feel his throat closing up, but he presses on anyway. His heart is beating so hard against his ribcage, it's almost painful. The air around them is so tense, Mingyu feels like he's being suffocated from the lack of oxygen.

 

“And, I feel all sorts of funny around you. It's not a bad thing, but like— it's hard to function around you when all I can really focus on is, well, _you._ Your nose wrinkles and your eyes form crescents when you smile. Fuck, I sound so _creepy_ , I'm sorry—” Mingyu’s voice cracks on his last two syllables, and he wants to cry. Oh hey, maybe Wonwoo wouldn't mind letting Mingyu borrow the scarf long enough for him to wring it around his neck and cut off his own supply of air.

 

Mingyu doesn't know how long they've spent locked up in the confinements of this darn closet. An estimate would tell Mingyu that it couldn't have been any longer than two minutes, but then again, he's the same person who manages to spend four hours on a single literature essay (and still gets a grade no higher than a measly D), under the false assumption that only thirty minutes have passed.

 

“I know,” Wonwoo says quietly. Mingyu doesn't know how to interpret the reply in any way other than it being a rejection, and no amount of expectation is able to change how the words stab at his heart. It's painful more than anything, the thought of Wonwoo not reciprocating his feelings, and Mingyu silently wishes he hadn't said anything at all.

 

“I've always known, Mingyu.” Wonwoo continues, a low, husky quality to his voice that Mingyu has never heard. There's no trace of maliciousness in it though, and instead, Wonwoo keeps his tone impossibly gentle. “And I've liked you back since forever.”

 

_Wait, what?_

 

“You're not exactly subtle, you know,” Wonwoo lets out a laugh, but it’s devoid of any humour and flickers way too close to sadness for Mingyu’s liking. “I've never told you because, well, I'm scared. I don't want to ruin everything we already have between us. I've always known how you felt, but I'm afraid it's just a passing phase, so I— I kept it to myself. It’s really selfish of me, isn't it? I'm sorry, Mingyu.”

 

Another dry laugh leaves the councillor’s lips, and the grip on Mingyu’s hand tightens every so slightly. Mingyu watches in silence as Wonwoo takes a deep breath in order to compose himself, lower lip quivering and caught under his perfect row of white teeth.

 

“I know it’s stupid, because you make me really, _really_ happy. But sometimes, I think that maybe I don't deserve it. I tell myself to be satisfied with what I have— what _we_ have— because I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose _you_.”

 

Mingyu doesn't want to believe for a second that _Wonwoo_ , of all people, thinks that he doesn't deserve every single ounce of the happiness he gets. It's the same Wonwoo who selflessly puts everyone else before himself, who is always willing to sacrifice his own meals and sleep to help anyone in need, who has Mingyu helplessly falling in love— yet Wonwoo doesn't dare let himself hope for much in return, especially not from Mingyu, in fear of having it taken away from him all too quick.

 

It makes Mingyu sad to know just how fearful Wonwoo is of letting himself want _more_ , more than just the exchange of shy glances and fond smiles, more than just the soft touches that border on intimacy but ultimately fail to progress into anything more.

 

More than anything, Mingyu hates how Wonwoo blames himself for it. With his gentle personality and caring nature, the last person to ever apologise should be Wonwoo.

 

Mingyu can barely make out Wonwoo’s silhouette in the dark, the minimal light casting shadows across the smaller student’s face. He watches as Wonwoo brings his other hand up to furiously wipe at his eyes, and the act sends another dagger straight through Mingyu's heart. There’s nothing he wants more than to hold Wonwoo tight, reassure him that it's alright to let himself be happy, and that it's not wrong for him to think for himself once in awhile.

 

So, he does. Mingyu pulls Wonwoo into his embrace, and presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead. It's a sweet gesture, and Wonwoo’s hands curl at the material of Mingyu’s sweatshirt, head resting against the crook of his neck. Mingyu doesn’t know what to say, so instead he reaches up to pat at Wonwoo’s hair, earning a rewarding tinkle of laughter from the student.

 

“Sorry,” Wonwoo murmurs again, but this time, there's a small smile in his voice when he continues a little louder, “You know, now that I’ve said everything aloud, I really just sound melodramatic.”

 

“Not at all, Wonwoo, everyone has insecurities,” Mingyu says honestly. It’s true, Mingyu doesn’t know how many times he has lost sleep over the uncertainty of his relationship with Wonwoo. He suddenly remembers that one night he even messaged _Seungcheol_ (who was literally on the other side of the wall separating their two bedrooms) about it, and immediately judges himself for his bad life decisions, because _how desperate must you be to even ask for Seungcheol’s help in anything?_

 

Mingyu’s mental warfare is brought to a standstill when Wonwoo starts shifting in his arms. The boy’s hugging his knees to his chest, but he’s fiddling with the ends of his new scarf while trapped within Mingyu’s grasp. It’s too dark to see, and it’s only when fabric brushes against the back of Mingyu’s hand that he realises _oh,_ Wonwoo is looking at the scarf that was knitted for him.

 

“I almost died learning how to knit just for you, you know? So that makes you, like, really special.”

 

Wonwoo laughs at the confession, and doesn’t reply until he’s done wrapping the scarf around his neck. His voice is muffled by the knitted fabric pressed against his lips, and it’s pretty darn cute in Mingyu’s opinion.

 

“Yeah, that does make me feel really special.” Wonwoo rests his head on Mingyu’s shoulder, and it’s almost as if Mingyu’s entire existence centres around Wonwoo and making him comfortable. “So, we’re good?”

 

“We’re good. You sure you’re alright?”

 

Wonwoo pauses for a moment before nodding his head. There’s still a hint of melancholy tugging at the corners of his lips, but the tight set of his jaw is no longer there and his nose is scrunched up the way it is only when he’s happy. Mingyu sneaks a glance at the student councillor cocooned against his side.

 

Neither say anything after that, but with Wonwoo seeking warmth and comfort in Mingyu’s embrace and Mingyu being more than satisfied with holding the other student close, they lapse into a comfortable silence.

 

Their hands find their way back to each other somewhere in between, and Wonwoo distracts himself by playing with the tips of Mingyu’s fingers, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips when the latter presses small kisses into his hair. It’s the closest and most intimate they’ve ever been.

 

They don’t bother moving from their positions when they hear the door swing open with so much force, it’d take an idiot to think that it was anybody but Seungcheol. Hansol is here too— no surprise there— and there’s the sound of overly-excited socked feet running across the room before the closet is unzipped in a single downward motion, and light pours into every crevice of the space. Wonwoo makes a noise of annoyance and promptly decides to avoid the onslaught of brightness by pressing himself even closer to Mingyu, face hidden by the scarf.

 

The need to protect Wonwoo from every form of evil in the universe immediately overcomes Mingyu, the present evil being Hansol, whose face is the first thing that comes into view when the closet doors fall open. His whole nose is painted a Rudolph red, and Christmas ornaments dangle from both his ears, and Mingyu doesn’t even _want_ to know what the gang has been up to during their time in the closet.

 

“Is this a bad time? Or like, are y’all doing that cuddling thing you get after se—”

 

Hansol’s words are cut off when Jihoon shoves him aside. It sends the head councillor flying and crashing onto the floor, along with the red and gold snowflake-patterned ornaments that he had previously worn as an accessory. Jihoon starts pulling at Wonwoo’s arm, and whacks the hand that Mingyu has over his best friend’s shoulder.

 

“Get your filthy paws off Wonwoo. Seven minutes is up, and I even gave you an extra five.”

 

Wonwoo lets himself go boneless as he’s dragged out of the closet by his friend no taller than five foot three, and Mingyu immediately misses his warmth. They're no longer in direct proximity, and it's definitely not something Mingyu takes a liking to. But then Wonwoo turns around to smile at him, and it's wide enough to show a glimpse of teeth, his nose scrunching up in the same lovely way Mingyu never gets tired of.

 

It gets Mingyu hopeful, and he’s beginning to finally let himself believe that what they have _is_ special, and has been all along. It's almost surreal— just one earnest smile, and the doubts that previously weighed him down are lifted all at once.

 

The moment is ruined when Seungcheol rudely cuts into Mingyu’s line of vision, with a grin that stretches too far and eyebrows that wiggle to oblivion. He sticks his face right in front of Mingyu’s and starts tugging him out of the closet, demanding to know what happened.

 

There are candy canes hanging from Seungcheol’s ears, and Soonyoung appears from behind him, proceeding to unhook one, unwrap it, and eat it. Mingyu can't find the strength in himself to do anything else but avert his gaze to stare at the door from which Jihoon leads Wonwoo out instead.

 

There's a sickening _pop_ sound as Soonyoung obscenely smacks his lips around the peppermint candy, and Mingyu loses it when Seungcheol snidely asks, “So did you get any dick?”

 

Mingyu gets to his feet— they're all tingly and numb from having his gawky legs folded at an unnatural angle in the closet, and beginning to feel like how Mingyu imagines evaporating into thin air would— and he almost falls flat on his face trying to walk. Lady Luck is on Mingyu’s side though, for she blesses him with a Soonyoung, who helps him up and even gives him a comforting pat on the butt.

 

“Fucking— My legs feel like… Shit, they feel like jelly, minus all the deliciousness.”

 

“So like, what, gelatin? Collagen?” Soonyoung supplies.

 

Mingyu wants to ask him to _shut up_ , but he knows his friend, albeit dumb, is just trying to be helpful, so he doesn't. Seungcheol is on the floor, and somehow managing to choke on air as he laughs his way to tears. Now _that’s_ someone who needs to shut up.

 

Mingyu's stumbling out of the door the moment a decent amount of feeling returns to his legs. It brings bad, bad memories of that one time he got high at Seungcheol’s nineteenth birthday party, and he was brainwashed by the birthday boy into thinking he was melting. In Mingyu’s buzzed mind, his legs did feel identical to room-temperature butter, and he broke down crying from the fear of having liquified limbs.

 

Yeah, that's exactly how his legs feel like right now.

 

He spots Wonwoo by the kitchen door, cornered by Jihoon and Minghao (with Junhui clinging to the Chinese student’s arm, their smiles eerily matching. Mingyu has always found the two terribly cat-like, only ever either lounging around or up to some form of mischief). And then there's Wonwoo looking very tiny, like a mouse stuck in a trap.

 

The boy’s looking considerably owlish as he blinks at his friends, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It's probably a little exaggerated, but well justified— they look physically ready to squeeze answers out of him. Wonwoo is pressed up against the door to the point that Mingyu thinks it just might give way and send him rocketing into Jisoo’s extensive collection of stainless steel pots and pans hanging on the wall.

 

It’s probably just the high from knowing that Wonwoo reciprocates his feelings, but Mingyu’s feeling much more spontaneous than ever, so he confidently charges forward.

 

Mingyu marches his way over to Wonwoo, unsolicited exhilaration bubbling in him like an overfilled cauldron of soup. But the feeling is gone when he takes Wonwoo by the wrist, because heads snap in his direction and he’s greeted by accusing stares.

 

“Mingyu, we are _trying_ to talk to Wonwoo,” Minghao says in a nasally voice. Jihoon’s glaring at Mingyu with a nasty scowl, and Junhui’s just nodding along to every word his Chinese companion says.

 

Wonwoo shakes his head furiously at that, but stops when he earns a pinch on his thigh from Jihoon. For a short person with even shorter fingers, _man_ , did his pinches hurt a whole damn lot. Come to think of it, Jihoon has always sworn by the effective strategy of digging nails into flesh. Wonwoo slaps his hand away.

 

He doesn’t know what else to do other than look at Mingyu imploringly, and tug on the taller male’s pinky. Something in Mingyu actually stirs at this, and he feels the familiar burst of affection rising up his chest. It makes Mingyu feel warm and tingly all over, an inexplicable tugging at his heart— it's the same feeling he gets when a bleary-eyed and very sleepy Wonwoo snuggles a little closer to him during lunch breaks.

 

Jihoon is looking at him with the evil eye, and Mingyu kinda gets the message of _don't you fucking dare,_ but he's too far gone to give a shit. Mingyu bolts for the front door, fingers still firmly wrapped around Wonwoo’s wrist.

 

There’s Hansol’s ear-piercing scream, a shrill “I never said this meeting was over!”, and then the student council president is blocking the entire doorway with his body. He's spread out starfish-style, skinny limbs preventing the duo from escaping.

 

Seungcheol comes charging out of the entertainment room at the sound of Hansol’s voice, arms outstretched and ready to make a grab at Mingyu. His lips are stretched from cheek to cheek in the creepiest smile, and Mingyu wants to scream bloody murder.

 

It’s awfully terrifying, to see their group of friends— minus the young Chan and Seungkwan, it’s past their bedtime and they’re sleeping on a single mattress in the centre of the living room— after them. It’s kinda like they’re a pack of ravenous wolves, out to draw first blood, with Wonwoo and Mingyu being the only fresh meat they’ve seen for miles.

 

Seungcheol is no more than three steps away when Mingyu decides to bulldoze the fuck past Hansol with Wonwoo in tow, the president almost bringing the whole door frame with him by his sheer determination to not let the fuck go.

 

Wonwoo’s just laughing as he’s dragged out of the dorm— Mingyu wants to chide him for not acknowledging the severity of the situation, but frankly, Wonwoo’s amusement ranks higher to him than any amount of Hansol and Seungcheol. The situation is really more like Mingyu’s stealing a cute, defenseless omega from a high-ranking wolf pack than anything else, but still, Mingyu thinks that Wonwoo _really_ has to stop his giggling.

 

It’s certainly _not_ because he finds the other’s laughter adorable, and very distracting in his quest for escape.

 

By some fucking miracle, Mingyu manages to lose Hansol _and_ Seungcheol by running into the conveniently opened doors of the building’s lift. (Wonwoo almost gets squished between the metal frames, but that much Mingyu can live with, as long as they get away.)

 

There‘s the sound of trampling footsteps as a deranged president and the world’s worst best friend run past the elevator, and Mingyu can hear Seungcheol's muffled voice saying, “Fuck, Hansol, how did you even manage to lose two giant six-footers? They’re basically running Christmas trees!”

 

“Ain’t _that_ easy to keep track of running trees, my dude!”

 

Mingyu’s starting to feel lightheaded from the lack of proper ventilation after his mad dash to the lift, and belatedly realises that Wonwoo has fiddled with the buttons. The student has lost a reindeer antler somewhere in between, and the scarf he’s received from Mingyu falls loosely around his shoulders.

 

“It looks good,” Mingyu manages to say between gasped breaths, as he quickly rearranges the scarf to wrap snugly around Wonwoo’s neck, “I should start my own line of clothing.”

 

Wonwoo’s all pretty smiles and laughter, and it serves as enough validation for Mingyu’s hard work. Screw Seungcheol and his valiant attempts to fuck up Mingyu’s love life.

 

“Maybe it’s the model that makes it look good,” comes the cheeky reply, before Wonwoo’s leading him out of the lift doors.

 

It doesn’t even take Mingyu a second for him to know where they’re headed to, as he’s been past these hallways countless of times. Wonwoo lets Mingyu enter the pin to his own apartment (it’s Mingyu’s birthday, much to Jihoon’s protest), and they spend a good amount of time wrestling each other onto Wonwoo’s bed.

 

Mingyu wins, obviously, and has the smaller male pinned and giggling against the soft mattress.

 

He has had his arms around Wonwoo’s slim waist for no more than a mere second before he gets a faceful of pillow, the other clobbering him off the bed. Mingyu falls off of the bed with the grace of an octopus in distress, all limbs and absolutely no sense of control.

 

It takes no time at all for Wonwoo to crawl over to the edge, and he peeks down at Mingyu with wide, innocent eyes. He has the blankets draped over his head, and it reminds Mingyu of an overly-apologetic puppy.

 

Mingyu thinks it’s a little ridiculous how quickly he’s invited back onto the bed— and even more so at how quickly he accepts said invitation— but it’s _Wonwoo_ , so Mingyu figures he can afford to make an exception.

 

They spend the rest of Christmas night in each other’s embrace, falling asleep to the steady beats of shared hearts and icy snowflakes on the chilled window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas! may you all have a blessed holiday, my gift to you is jingle (my) bells part two :-)
> 
> I have a confession, I only finished this up today, thank you chorusofthesong for the stimultaneous beta-ing while I wrote heh
> 
> please let me know in the comments whether you enjoyed this holiday's story!
> 
> also, I created a new [twitter](https://twitter.com/bbaekstillcute), please feel free talk to me about anything & everything, or ask me any questions there! I'd love to make friends ye hit me up @bbaekstillcute
> 
> thank you for reading, see you on new years ♡


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